The Heir of the House of Black
by The Magnificent Kiwi
Summary: It was clear from an early age that Sirius Black was not like the rest of his family. In a family where honour lies in the blood, a young boy realises that it is what lies in the heart that counts. This is his story, from the day he was born until the day he turned his back on his legacy forever.


**AN - **I never actually intended/planned/set out to write this. It started as just straightening out some headcanon and before I knew it, I kind of had a full piece! It basically covers Sirius in his early years to mid-teens (birth to 16), as he struggles with a family he doesn't quite fit in with - how he comes to realise that he is not like them and what he does when he does.

Please let me know what you think :). Leave a review if you like it (or don't like it!) and let me know.

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**The Heir of the House of Black**

The Black family heir arrived in the Autumn of 1959, with a head of shiny black hair and a set of lungs to rival a Banshee. It was a blessing for Orion and Walburga, and came as somewhat of a relief after the girls born to Cygnus and Druella. Whatever child came next, if they were blessed with another at all, they had given the family its heir. They named him Sirius, for their grandfather who did not live to see the birth of his great-grandson.

Sirius was, for the most part, a content child, and when his brother arrived a year later he was fascinated with the wrinkly little thing crying in his mother's arms and demanding everyone's attention, but was not in the least bit jealous. He was too young to care, really. And he was the heir - however much the family loved little Regulus, its future lay with him.

His education began when he was three years old. Simple lessons in etiquette and manners such as how to be polite and respectful, the correct way to sit on a chair, and which fork to use with which dish. That amused him - a fork was a fork, what did it matter how he used it? Because he was an inquisitive child, and he wondered about a lot more than just forks. Walburga became sick of the questions after a while, told him to mind his own business and not everything needed an explanation. And that pretty much summed up his education: this is fact, no questions. Lessons on how to think as well as how to behave.

When he was four years old, his real education kicked in. The Blacks hired the old family tutor to maintain their high standards, and little Sirius appeared to be naturally very intelligent, if not always deeming the work to be worthy of his effort. He lived a rather sheltered existence and did not leave the house much in his earlier years. His only potential friends were his family; his brother was rather dull, being so young, and the less said about his cousins the better.

Family Tree analysis began when he was five. He knew most of the names of his immediate family, though had admittedly not looked much at the family tree (it was a little too high on the wall). His parents spoke to him more and more about 'important matters', and some words that had bounced around him throughout the years suddenly drew too much curiosity.

During studies, he asked his tutor what a mudblood was and why they were such bad people. As he was a naturally inquisitive boy he loved to know everything about the subjects he was taught. The tutor praised this in the early days, but soon became irritated.

'You know what a muggle is, yes?' she had asked.

'Yes.' Non-magic folk. Nasty primitive people, according to his mother.

'Well a mudblood is the magical child of two muggles.'

Sirius was fascinated by this.

'How can that happen?' he had wanted to know.

'It's an abomination of nature,' the tutor had said. 'That's what the word means: dirty, tainted blood. There is no explanation for it. Perhaps they steal magic, perhaps they are simply a biological freak of nature. But we do not associate with them, Sirius. We are a Black, we are nobility, we have to uphold the slipping standards of blood purity.'

She had then explained the concept of blood purity, seemingly astonished that he had not picked it up so far. He knew that his family were important, and that he was important too but he had seen the world as split into magical and non-magical folk, it had never occurred to him that there were _subcategories_.

This idea, of course, was stamped out of him, and he was rather horrified. Why did people let these 'abominations' walk around? Why, if muggles wanted to steal their magic and force them into the shadows, did the wizarding world hide rather than fight back? His mother seemed so proud when he asked this. His fury earned him an extra large slice of cake with dessert.

His family 'education' became more intense with age. Every night his mother would test him on the bloodlines; which were respectable and which were tainted. In short, which were acceptable to marry into and associate with.

One day, he asked about the little black holes in the tapestry that was their family tree. Though he had wondered about them for years, he had never thought to ask.

'Blood traitors,' his mother told him with a note of disgust in her voice. 'People who dishonour the family and the noble and pure blood that runs through their veins. This is why you must marry respectably. You are the heir of our family, Sirius, you are of noble and pure blood and it is up to you to uphold our values and traditions.'

Sirius thought better than to ask if that meant he had to chop Kreacher's head off when he got too old.

Walburga and Orion would often boast of their son's intelligence at family meals. As he grew older, Sirius wondered how much was true pride and how much was simply reminding his aunt and uncles that they had not been the ones to produce the family heir.

Such reunions were always unpleasant events anyway. Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella actively searched for things to criticise him over, from a smudge of dirt on his skin to a crease in his robes. And every time they did, Walburga and Orion would shake their heads in dismay, frown, or even tell Sirius to leave the room. Never once did they tell their relatives to leave their son alone.

Uncle Alphard was a different matter. If Sirius was careless enough to drop a potato onto his lap, Alphard would spill half a goblet of wine onto his own and laugh loudly about inherited clumsiness. Cousin Andromeda was scolded once for laughing with him, and Sirius was sure he saw her roll her eyes in response. He would never have dared attempt something so brazenly disrespectful.

As the years passed, it became more and more obvious that there was something different about Sirius Black, though he seemed to be the only one to notice. He did not feel comfortable in a lot of family conversations and once he was old enough to be allowed to read the Daily Prophet, he found that this Voldemort fellow his parents spoke of in such high regard did not seem like a very nice person at all. He was sent to his room without dinner for suggesting as much.

It was little things like this that brought him to question his beliefs. There were mudblood members of the Ministry, so how could they be all that bad? Surely the Minister would not allow someone attempting to steal magic so close to its governing body.

Cousin Andromeda asked to be shown his room during one family gathering, after showing signs of discomfort for some time. Andromeda was older than he and already studying at Hogwarts, like her sisters. But unlike her sisters, Sirius did not hate being around Andromeda. She never chastised him for silly things, never told him to grow up, and he was quite fond of her gentle way and bright sense of humour. Her mother would often scold her for being too 'soft' with him, but she would reply that he was just a child. Nobody else in his family ever seemed to think of him as a child.

The family had been talking about marriage, about some unsavoury choices relatives had made in the past, how Cousin Bella was on track to marry the Lestrange boy and how proud they were of her for it. It brought up a question in Sirius's mind, one he never would have dared ask the others but felt comfortable enough with Andromeda to query.

'Will mum tell me who to marry or can I decide for myself?'

Andromeda laughed at his question, though calmed when she saw that he was deadly serious.

'She will probably try to tell you, but it's your choice in the end,' she said. 'If you're going to spend the rest of your life with someone, you need to get on with them.'

Sirius thought bitterly about the other pure-blood children that he often played with and how dull they were.

'So if I fall in love with someone, I can marry them?'

Andromeda smiled again. 'That should be the only reason you marry - don't let anyone tell you otherwise.'

'But what if I fall in love with a mudblood?' The thought terrified him, but if love was something you couldn't control...

Andromeda seemed to take this a little more seriously, for she neither smiled nor laughed.

'Then you follow your heart. Look, our family has all sorts of ideas about what makes a good person, but in the end...it's the heart that counts, not the blood. Trust me, there are pure-bloods in my house that are amongst the foulest people I know, whereas there are muggle-borns at school who are amongst the nicest.'

Sirius frowned as he processed this new information. But it _was_ blood that counted...if your blood was tainted by non-magic then it made you less of a person...didn't it?

Andromeda became mad when he asked her this.

'What do you think?' she asked impatiently.

Nobody had ever asked him that before. He had always been told what to think and how to act. Never before had he considered that his opinion was even cared about, let alone valid.

'I don't know,' he admitted. To his surprise, Andromeda smiled and reached out to pull him into a friendly half-hug.

'You're not like them,' she whispered, as though it was some sort of secret. 'Even your brother. You have a brain and you actually use it to think, even if you're a bit rusty with the practise.'

'I'm not supposed to think,' Sirius grumbled. 'I'm supposed to listen.'

'You have a lot to be proud of,' Andromeda told him. 'You're a snobby little brat, but you're a good kid who's just been brought up wrong. You want my advice? Stay true to yourself, that's what's important. Don't let anyone else tell you how to think or feel, not even your parents. When you get older you'll see, the world isn't quite how they paint it. It's not so black and white. There are far more important things than being pureblood and being a Black.'

The concept stunned him.

'Like what?'

Andromeda smiled. 'Now that's something you're going to have to figure out for yourself.'

He wished that she would not be so vague, not after sparking such curiosity. But he nodded, because she had a point. There was so much that he was unsure of, so much that his parents did not believe required an explanation. Maybe if he learned enough, maybe if he had evidence to back up viewpoints, he would truly understand the truths they told him.

'And Sirius?' Andromeda said, a tone of friendly warning upon her voice now. 'Don't call them mudbloods. It's not a nice word.'

And just like that, seeds of determination and autonomy had been sewn in his mind and he began to question more and more. He had never considered himself a separate entity, always an extension of the family. Over time, his parents became increasingly frustrated with him and his increasingly vocal opinions. Walburga became cruel, the simple lack of affection she had shown him shrivelling into open animosity. Some days, he was frightened. Others, he was hurt. But one thing became clearer with every day that passed: he was indeed very different to the rest of his family.

He was nearing Hogwarts age at the time of a particularly sour family reunion. Andromeda seemed withdrawn during the ordeal, her sisters sharp and sometimes cruel in their attitude towards her. Sirius had remained close with her, had even gone on fantastic days trips with his cousin and her boyfriend, whose blood status she was always open with him about. Ted Tonks was a happy, kind boy and he made Andromeda very happy, so naturally Sirius took to him very quickly. He was a big part of the reason for Sirius's rapidly vanishing animosity for anything or anyone non-pure.

It was after dinner, when he had retreated to his room, that Andromeda found him, closing the door carefully behind her.

'Sirius, come here,' she gestured quietly, dropping to her knees as she sat him in a chair. Her eyes seemed very sad, though there was a fierce determination in them. 'Listen, you're probably not going to see me for a while after today.'

'What?'

She shushed him, casting a furtive glance to the door.

'Ted and I are getting married.'

Sirius felt as though his grin would split his face in half.

'Congratulations!' he said. It was the best news to come from the family in a long time. But Andromeda didn't seem to share his enthusiasm.

'Ted's parents are muggles,' she reminded him. 'You know what this means.'

No...no. They wouldn't disown her. Not Andromeda. He told her this and she laughed sombrely.

'Others have been stricken off the tree for less,' she said. He was distraught when it sank in and begged her not to go.

'Make them accept him,' he pleaded. 'Ted's nice, if they just got to know him...'

Andromeda shook her head sadly.

'You know their minds don't work like that. He's only as nice as his blood is pure in their eyes.' She hooked a finger beneath Sirius's chin and raised his head, bringing his eyes up to her from where they had fallen to the floor. 'Don't be sad. I'm not. I'm very happy. I'm not like them. And neither are you. You should be very proud of that fact. I am very proud of you for it. We don't belong in a place like this.'

'I just...I don't want you to go.'

'This isn't goodbye,' she assured him with a smile. 'You will be going to Hogwarts soon, and you will meet lots of new friends. When you do...we can send each other owls.'

This cheered him up a little; her warm hands against his cheeks almost encouraged a smile.

'Don't let them get you down,' she said earnestly. 'You are so much better than them. But keep your head down and keep out of trouble. Don't provoke them; you will only make things worse for yourself.'

Sirius watched Walburga blast Andromeda's name from the family tree. She made a sort of sick ceremony about it as her husband nodded in agreement and Sirius's hands trembled behind his back.

Things weren't the same after that. He blamed them fully for the departure of his favourite cousin. But he kept true to his word for the most part and existed as an emotionless, opinion-less drone in front of the family. Regulus was the only one he really talked to, and after an argument in which he was chastised for his views, told that he should stop making a bad name for himself and shaming the family, as though his little brother was doing him a favour for bringing it up... Well, after that Sirius did not talk much to him either.

The arrival at Platform Nine and Three Quarters was a noisy and frightening experience. Young children clung to their parents, who kissed their rosy cheeks and combed through untidy hair. Tears were shed on both sides, presents passed on, and there was just such a display of emotion in general that it made Sirius feel rather uncomfortable.

His eyes were torn from an older couple fussing over their bespectacled son, who blushed furiously as his mum kissed him on the forehead, to regard his own parents. Walburga looked about the platform with distaste, sneering at the obvious muggle parents. Orion simply stood there silent, Regulus craning his neck to get a good view of everything.

Needless to say, Sirius received neither kiss nor hug from his parents as he bid them goodbye, just a warning to behave himself. It was only Regulus who waved and asked for letters.

Then, he met _him_. The black-haired bespectacled boy from the platform. It was a fateful arrangement, that they happened to sit in the same compartment. James Potter was also a pureblood, but he was nothing like Sirius had ever experienced before, blood be damned. He was so full of energy and life, so physical and so _happy_. They hit it off straight away, and a new form of education started on that train. By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade station he had learned that his family's high opinion of Slytherin, the 'only true noble house', was one that was not shared by the majority of the wizarding world. He learned that children also aspired to be in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, that joking and laughing was not really considered 'uncouth', and that he was not the only one who believed that dangling jelly snakes out of one's nose was hilarious.

The Sorting was a true sign of just how far from his family's views he had diverged. While it recognised that he would do well in Slytherin, it also recognised that he did not value the qualities that Slytherin did. It seemed almost surprised to find that he wanted to be noted for his own achievements and not for his family. And so, he was placed in Gryffindor.

When the owl came expressing his parents' disappointment, how he had dishonoured the family and besmirched the noble name of Black, he found that he did not care much. Because for once in his life he was somewhere he felt free, somewhere he could write his own destiny.

It took barely a week for James to beat the snobbish attitude out of him and they became the best of friends. There was another boy, too, one with a witty sense of humour that frequently had both boys in stitches, a boy who was uncommonly kind to everyone he met. Soon, two became three, then three became four, and everyone in the school knew their names and their misdeeds. Sirius was having the time of his life.

Every holiday came like an anvil into his life. By now, his parents were almost intolerable. Regulus was the better son, and Sirius was no good. He was not fit to carry the name of Black, not fit to be anything, really. Though he pretended that their words did not hurt, he found each passage through King's Cross harder and harder to bear. So many happy families, so many parents showering love upon their children. It made him wonder what was wrong with him, why his own parents had never shown so much as an ounce of affection towards him.

Then, he was invited to stay at the Potters'.

Mrs. Potter was a warm and friendly woman, welcoming him into her house without question. As Mr. Potter took his bag upstairs (he would not hear of it when a horrified Sirius insisted that he leave it), his wife had home made lemonade and cakes waiting for them. It took a while for him to adjust, and for the expressions of discomfort to fall from the Potters' faces when he would sit rather rigidly in his chair, waiting for permission to start eating, or when he would flinch and recoil when Mrs. Potter reached out to adjust his shirt or hair, or even just place a casual hand on him.

He was taken aback with the open affection they showed their son, and with the general lack of rigidity about their daily lives. And when he bid them goodbye and Mrs. Potter pulled him into a warm embrace, kissing him on the forehead before asking him to stay again sometime (he nodded so furiously he gave himself a headache), he found himself despising his own upbringing and wishing he could have been born as James's true brother.

As the years went on, he became more and more distant from his blood relatives and came to consider his three best friends as his true family. His inquisitive nature uncovered a shocking truth about one of his new brothers, but it bounced off him as it did the others. The half-blood was a werewolf, but all Sirius saw when he looked at him was a boy he loved very much suffering from a horrific curse. The other three plotted over how they could help him, and Sirius's education was complete.

It all came to a head in his fifth year. A hellish summer holiday saw to it that he was rather sullen during the first term. He lashed out at those he could, and ended up hurting someone very dear to him. His world was falling apart, despite Remus's forgiveness, and when he returned home for Christmas...

He never really knew what triggered the argument, only that his mother slapping him across the head was the final straw. They screamed themselves hoarse, and Walburga let him know that she regretted giving birth to him, regretted raising him, because of what a disappointment he had turned out to be. She said that they all would have been better off if he had died at birth.

Funny how he had told himself so much for years, but hearing it from his mother's lips... He was packed within ten minutes, out the front door in fifteen, followed by demands that he return or be disowned. But he didn't care any more. He had spent so long waiting for his parents to love him, finally he realised that it was just not going to happen. And despite how much he hated them, this knowledge tore him apart.

He arrived at the Potters' home on the eve of Christmas Eve, broken, lost and not quite knowing what to ask for. But they knew, and they shoved hot chocolate into his hands as they offered him all the comfort they could. Somehow, that made it hurt even more.

'I'm glad you got away,' James said when they were finally alone. 'I didn't want to say anything, but...I wanted to come get you. I was scared, Padfoot...'

James had never admitted fear in front of anyone before. They shared a bed that night, lying awake and staring at the ceiling until it was light outside. James tried to speak once or twice, but never seemed to be able to find the right words and would fall back into silence after a few awkward noises.

No owl came from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. There was no knock on the door, no attempt to claim him back. By the time the new year came he realised that they did not care that he was gone, and would not be coming after him. He wasn't sure how to feel at first. Upset that they didn't care that he was gone or even if he was okay? Or relieved that he was finally out of that place and away from them?

Soon, the smile he put on became genuine, and by the end of the holiday he actually felt sad to be returning to school. Mrs. Potter refused to let him consider any other living arrangements, told him that his home was with them. And it was more than words; the Potters treated him no differently than they treated James, loved him as his own parents seemed incapable of doing.

Sirius did not see Walburga and Orion again until the end of the holidays. He dreaded the journey back to Hogwarts so much that he barely slept the night before. He did not greet them, barely even looked their way. He could not deal with the unpleasant emotions that crept back as he watched them exchange farewells with Regulus.

Then, the Potters had pulled him into an embrace, with James squished uncomfortably beside him, complaining all the time ('Gerrofit, mum!'). Something fell into place inside of him as Mrs. Potter kissed them both and promised to send sweets. She and her husband had done so much for him, he did not think there was a meaningful enough way to show his gratitude.

'Okay, off you go,' Mrs. Potter said. 'Both of you! Don't want to miss the train, do we?'

'See you in the summer,' James said.

'You too, sweetie. And Sirius, we'll have the spare room next to James's all set up and ready for you.' It was as though she were reminding him not to even attempt to look for anywhere else.

'Thanks, mum.'

The word slipped out, and he realised it the moment it left his tongue but he did not correct himself or apologise, not even as tears filled Mrs. Potters' eyes or laughter fell from James's lips. Because that's what she was to him, more so than the woman who had brought him into this world. More than that, she had taught him what a mother truly was. And the smile that she gave him in return stayed with him all the way to school. Not a single thought remained with the family at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Because he never had to go back there. He had a new family, one that cared about him and not just the blood in his veins.

And he smiled.

Finally, he was free.


End file.
